Robot Dreams (2023)

Saturday is traditionally "Take Out the Trash" Day, but this Saturday, we'll make an exception with this wonderful little animated film.

"Do You Remember..."

or

The Counter-point to "Rust Never Sleeps"
 

"What a piece of work is a man!"

William Shakespeare

Interesting way that Shakespeare says that. "Piece of work"...like a construction. A machine. And what is our relationship with our machines, to whom we are both master and slave? 

 

When Stanley Kubrick was working on the story that would be completed by Steven Spielberg as A.I.: Artificial Intelligence, one of the push-backs he got was whether human beings could love mechanical beings. He found nothing odd about it. How many of us anthropomorphize our devices: how many of us name our cars or festoon our work-stations with family pictures and beloved ephemera? A high percentage in my experience. 

And it's been the subject of many movies of late: her and Blade Runner (both versions, but especially Blade Runner 2049 with its "Joi" holographic companion) or the lesser-known Robot & Frank.

Pablo Berger's amazing Robot Dreams (based on the graphic novel/children's story by Sara Varon) looks very retro, employing a deceptively limited animation style (but within a complex background of New York, circa 1980's) to tell a tale of emotion, companionship, complexity and Fate without a word of dialog...a feat that belies any lack of sophistication in the process. That the world is populated by animals, well, that's a once-remove to push a point, the same way Zootopia does. 

Dog (that's his name..."Dog") lives in New York City, and it's dull, solitary existence. He plays pong. He makes a TV dinner in his micro-wave (which he drinks with "TaB"). He watches TV. He looks out the window and sees happy couples. He's lonely, as lonely as one can be in the most populous city in the country. An ad pops up asking "Are you alone?" and before you can say "but, wait, there's more!" he's ordering what they're selling—a robot companion, the "Amica 2000." It arrives and he spends much time on the construction and deciphering of the instructions.

But, once Robot's lights all turn green, they become fast friends, walking around Manhattan, Central Park, and doing the things one does in New York—eating hot dogs, roller-skating in the park, sight-seeing, going home, watching TV...it's Fun City, and all set to the happiest song ever written: Earth, Wind and Fire's "September" (the movie makes great use of the song, breaking it down, and using it in various forms throughout the movie).

Dog and Robot became constant buddies and inseparable friends. Then, Dog takes Robot to Playland, where they spend a great day on the beach, flying kites and swimming. A nap in the sun for both of them ends with Dog indicates it's time to go. But, Robot can't move. He's rusted. Dog tried to get Robot off the beach, but he's much too heavy, so they agree that Dog should leave Robot there, find a way to repair Robot, and in the morning, they can go home. But, when Dog rushes out there to get Robot, he finds the beach shut down for the season and he can't get to Robot and is charged with trespassing. Another attempt, he gets arrested. When he appeals to the Parks department, he is denied. All he can do is wait until next year when Playland opens again.

In the meantime, Robot is left on the beach...and he dreams. What else can he do?

 

Pretty simple story-line, but Berger imbues it with detail and much humor, reminding one of the ingenuity employed by directors of the silent age—while also paying homage to such diverse directors as Hitchcock, Kubrick, and Allen.

We'll leave the synopsis there, as where Berger and his co-scenarist Varon take the story becomes more complex and richer, having to do with experience and nostalgia and how you never really lose those no matter what else you lose along the way. it could be a fanciful rom-com if the trajectory of events didn't run counter to the expectations of that genre. It's sweet and sad, but has a particular life-affirming quality that warms the heart and is instantly relatable, even if you're nothing like the denizens of this animated New York and merely a poor player of a human being.

I can't recommend this one highly enough and one hopes that you get the chance to catch it in a theater where it should be seen.

 

And as for the question of emotional attachments to our devices, it's not so fanciful an idea, either. Every computer, lap-top, smart-phone, and pad you own has memory. And it's all about you.